


Encouraging Employee Initiative

by Nevanna



Series: Documentation of Organizational Language (Magnusquerade) [8]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Blood Drinking, Consensual Mind Control, Gen, Mind Control, Threats of Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-02
Updated: 2019-10-02
Packaged: 2020-11-10 18:21:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20856197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nevanna/pseuds/Nevanna
Summary: Melanie doesn't adapt easily to Elias' management strategies.





	Encouraging Employee Initiative

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Management Strategies With Regard to Attempted Homicide](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20160631) by [GoldsweptSilk (NevillesGran)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NevillesGran/pseuds/GoldsweptSilk). 

> This is my contribution to the shared "TMA But With More Vampire Tropes" universe, and takes place not long after the (excellent) story linked above. I tried to sum up the situation at the beginning, but I still recommend that you read "Management Strategies..." first, for all your Creepy Master Vampire / Reluctant Fledgling / Rebellious Thrall needs.

“Do you know what’s happened to Melanie?” Martin asked, sinking onto the only chair in the office that wasn’t piled with papers. “I mean, she’s never been exactly warm and fuzzy toward me, but what she just said… I don’t even want to repeat it!”

Jon looked up from the statement that he’d been skimming for any mention of vampire enthrallment. “Elias happened to her,” he explained, in what he hoped was a low enough voice that her enhanced hearing wouldn’t catch it. “To a greater degree than before, that is. He did something to make her more loyal, more obedient to… to her masters.” Out of all of his... assistants (_his to devour, his to protect_), Martin was perhaps the _least_ vehemently opposed to calling him that, but it was still awkward to say the word aloud. “I think she’s being vile to you because she can.”

“God, I can only imagine what it must be like in her head,” Martin said. “But… you don’t think that makes it right, for her to hurt the rest of us, do you?”

Jon didn’t have to _imagine_ a thing. “None of this is right.” He’d already resolved to do something about that, but Martin had just given him one more reason to try.

-

Jon lifted his mouth from Melanie’s wrist. “Are you still doing all right?”

“I’m fine.” Her voice was distant, and when he glanced up, there was a dullness to her eyes that he didn’t often see, even in the faces of compelled humans.

“You’ve never let me take this much before,” he reminded her. 

“It’s what I’m made for, isn’t it?” she responded, and although there was a time when those words would have been clearly sarcastic, now he wasn’t so sure. Either way, her thoughts were singing in agreement, in concert with the blood that he could still hear and smell and taste: _My duty, my purpose, to serve him and feed him and submit…_

Jon lowered his head again, but instead of taking another drink (of what he knew to be _his_), he kissed the tiny wound closed and forced himself to straighten. “I know that you’re trying to ride it out, but you can’t go on like this.”

“Don’t…” She spat the words of defiance through clenched teeth: “Do not. Tell me. What I. Can’t do.”

“If you’d let me help…”

“I already told you, I don’t want you and Elias fighting over me like a piece of meat.”

There was at least one clan that regarded even their fellow vampires as exactly that, and Jon wished that he didn’t understand where they were coming from. “What if I could undo the worst of it?”

Something like hope flashed on her haggard face. “What if I decide to stake you afterwards?” 

“I’d prefer that you didn’t, but…”

Her eyes squeezed shut and her hands curled into fists, almost – but not quite – tightly enough for her nails to break the skin. “I can’t… even when I just think about going against you, or him, it hurts so _much_…”

“I know.” Jon waited until they could look at each other. “I can’t break that link completely, not now. Maybe someday, we’ll figure out a way. But I should be able to…” At a loss for words, he wiggled his fingers near his head, then in the direction of hers. “Rearrange matters. So that your thoughts are your own. Even the murderous ones.”

Melanie closed her eyes again, as if she were trying to wrestle her way through reluctance and suspicion, clashing with the urge to _agree_ and _trust him_ and _let him in, all the way, deep as he wanted…_ all tangled together with what must have been a genuine desire and need to have herself back. “Okay,” she said finally. “I guess you can’t make it any worse.”

“Thank you for the vote of confidence,” Jon said dryly. He opened his mind fully, let it drift together with hers, trying not to press too hard. Sent her a caress of gratitude and encouragement when she didn’t try to shut him out. 

Elias’ commands – the steady thrum of _surrender, submit, obey_ – were like pulsing tumors attached to Melanie’s thoughts, or like slimy, deadly things floating in water. Where Jon couldn’t compress or dissolve them into nothing, he concentrated on making them quiet, diluting their poison until she could hear herself think and steer herself around them, until they no longer swam through her blood.

He moved as carefully as he could, pausing to listen/feel for any signs of her distress, because no matter what either of them might have said, it would be too easy to make _everything_ worse. As he released her mind, he heard whispered words that she would likely not choose to say aloud: _Thank you._

He waited for her eyes to focus before asking, “How do you feel?”

“Better,” Melanie whispered. “I think.” She was still for a moment. “I don’t feel like my head’s going to explode if I think about stabbing... somebody.”

“That’s, er… I think we can call that a good sign.”

One corner of her mouth twitched into a smirk. “He’s going to hate this.” Her pulse quickened. “I can’t wait.” Perhaps she noticed something on his face, or picked up on the flare of _mine to protect_ that flashed through his own mind, because she added, “Don’t worry; I’m not going to do anything… was ‘fatally impulsive’ the way you put it?”

“On which occasion?” Jon countered.

She snorted. “I guess I should find Martin and apologize.”

“He would appreciate that,” Jon assured her. He believed that he could last the rest of the night without feeding, even after the psychic energy that he’d just expended, but if she offered, he wouldn’t say no. “I hope that you’ll try to rest tonight. I look forward to hearing you call me an insufferable leech again tomorrow.”

“Oh, before you know it, you’ll wish you’d let me stay a simpering puppet.” She rose from her chair but didn’t turn to go. “Wait, you weren’t _actually_ tempted to do that, were you?”

It was more than just the proximity of potentially pointy wooden objects that made Jon carefully consider his reply. “Restraining myself from following my base desires is part of my existence now,” he said at last. “And it always will be.” He met her eyes. “In return, I _want_ to trust that those around me will choose not to act on their fear or anger in destructive ways.”

Melanie extended her hand and gave his a squeeze, and that moment was the most _human_ that either of them had felt in far too long.

-

“I’m interrupting something, aren’t I?”

Jon shuddered back into the Archives, into his own skull. “Why do you even bother asking?”

“Because your answers can be quite entertaining.” Elias leaned against the doorway and imitated Jon’s voice. “‘Oh, I wasn’t mentally stalking our most troublesome thrall. I was just making sure that she could walk the streets safely after I shoved our evil vampire overlord out of her head...’”

“What of it?” Jon snapped. “I was under the impression that you liked it when I use my powers.”

“And so I do. Which is one of the reasons why Ms. King’s prickly little mind is safe for now. She’s learned her lesson, and I have no intention of unraveling the marvelous work you’ve done.” Fondness surged along their link and rushed through Jon’s blood before he could even try to strengthen his shields. “It’s always so satisfying to watch my employees hone their new skills.”

“Are we finished?” Jon let a growl heat his voice.

“If you ever want to know how much more you can do to a willing mind - or an unwilling one - you know that I’ll be here.” Elias tossed an “Until then” over his shoulder as he left.

Once he was alone - or as alone as anybody ever was inside the Magnus Institute - Jon did not return his Sight to Melanie. He already Knew that instead of returning to her sleeping place in the tunnels, she’d texted Georgie as soon as she walked out the door, and he had left the two women outside a pub with their arms linked. Melanie’s smile was small but very genuine as she rested her head on Georgie’s shoulder, and Jon knew that he’d seen everything that he needed to see.

**Author's Note:**

> My hugest thanks to the other Magnusquerade writers, especially NevillesGran, who helped create this universe, inadvertently suggested the scenario that prompted this story, and responded with a concise but emphatic "YES" when I told them what I had in mind. Also, I realize that this is the _second_ time in the Very Recent Past that someone else's fic has inspired me to write a spinoff along the lines of "Archivist uses his powers to help a mind-scrambled teammate; Elias swoops in to Smug all over the ending." If you don't have a problem with that, I don't either. :D


End file.
